


Something Blue

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-31
Updated: 2012-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-30 10:22:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/330690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you want to stay in the boys’ locker room, that’s certainly your choice, but I am <i>not</i> going to style my hair while having to dodge a game of touch football with a ball made of old gym socks when I have another option available to me.”</p><p>set during 3x10 (“Yes/No”)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Blue

Rachel stood in front of one of the mirrors in the girls’ dressing room and plugged in her flat iron with a distinct sense of satisfaction. The performance in the pool had gone exceptionally well; the acoustics in the large room had actually intensified her voice instead of making it sound too echoey, the bathing suits had been quite flattering, and the boys hadn’t splashed too much through the choreography.

Oh, and of course Miss Pillsbury had said yes to Mr. Schuester at the end. Though with that sort of proposal, how could she not? Even though Rory had mis-timed one of the moves in the middle of the song, the staging as well as the vocals had been impressive.

Rachel gave a little nod to Santana and Brittany as they walked from the shower and changing area and past her toward the door to the hallway. She wasn’t sure how they did it, but they always seemed able to pull their hair into perfect ponytails with a minimum of fuss, while she was left trying to get everything just so. Maybe it was something they taught on the Cheerios along with split-lifts and toe-touch jumps.

She wondered if she had anything to trade with Coach Sylvester for the secret; she might need it for quick changes in the theater in the future.

The door swung open again a minute later, just as she was checking to see if her flat iron was hot enough. It wasn’t quite.

“Kurt, we can’t - “ Blaine’s voice came from outside.

His hands occupied with his bags and neatly folded blazer, Kurt shouldered the door open and said, “If you want to stay in the boys’ locker room, that’s certainly your choice, but I am _not_ going to style my hair while having to dodge a game of touch football with a ball made of old gym socks when I have another option available to me.” He set his bags down on one of the sinks. “Hello, Rachel.”

“Hi, Kurt,” she replied. “You can come in, Blaine. We’re all changed, but thank you for being such a gentleman about it.”

Blaine edged into the room; the tension in his shoulders relaxed when he realized she was alone and in her school clothes. Like Kurt he was in his shirtsleeves, his cardigan draped over one arm. “Thank you.”

Running her brush through her hair again, Rachel watched Kurt line up a variety of little bottles and jars on the edge of the sink. After pushing his damp hair back with a wide headband, he picked one up and began to rub a liberal dab of its contents into his face. She wondered not for the first time if it was wrong that his primping routine was more complicated than her own; she had to prepare her face for stardom, too, after all.

“No, thank you,” Blaine said when Kurt offered him the jar. He pulled a little tube and a comb out of his bag and started to drag the comb through his messy wet curls.

“The level of chlorine in public pools is very drying,” Kurt replied, still holding out the jar.

After a brief pause during which Kurt’s eyebrows climbed even higher, Blaine set down his comb and took the jar, dipping into it with two careful fingers.

“I have to say I think our performance went very well,” Rachel said, separating out a section of her hair and running the flat iron over it. There was something soothing about watching the bits of hair frizzing out from her time in the pool falling back into place.

“Yes.” Kurt’s eyes sparkled as they met hers in the mirror. “It was an excellent proposal.”

“Very romantic,” Blaine agreed, rubbing the moisturizer into his face in gentle circles.

“Of course it was,” Rachel said. “We sang a song just for her. That’s always romantic.”

Blaine nodded. “Initially I thought Mr. Schuester should have been the one doing the singing, but this way his appearance at the end was more impressive.”

“Never underestimate the importance of a grand entrance,” Rachel said. She smiled to herself; it was wonderful having friends who understood these things. “And this way he didn’t detract from the skill and passion of the rest of the performance.”

“Even if the something blue could have been my lips,” Kurt said. “We live in Ohio. Why isn’t that pool heated?”

“I think it used to be,” Blaine replied. He leaned over to wipe his hands on the fluffy towel Kurt had draped over the edge of the sink. “Mr. Schuester said something about budget cuts and the cost of gas.”

Rachel started in on another section of hair. “I wish I’d known that before I’d agreed to the idea. Singing in cold water is very hard on one’s vocal cords. I had to use all of my considerable skill not to tighten up.”

“No offense, Rachel, but I don’t think Miss Pillsbury would have cared if you’d sounded like a crow with laryngitis today.” Kurt replaced the cap on one jar and opened another. He rubbed a bit of its contents between his palms before he skimmed them over his face and throat. “It was a _proposal_. I bet we looked like singing and dancing cushion cut solitaires to her.”

“That’s no excuse to have done a less than perfect job,” she replied, stung by the very thought. Besides, she had been front and center and had sounded wonderful; of course Miss Pillsbury had been watching her.

Kurt glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Obviously not. Besides, Mr. Schue is going to need all of the help he can get getting what he can right since he’s asked Finn to be his best man.”

“I think it’s nice,” Blaine said. He frowned at his reflection in the mirror, both hands working something into his hair.

“Would _you_ ask Finn to plan anything?” Kurt asked, turning to him.

“Sure, why not?”

“He did an exceptional job at Sectionals,” Rachel agreed. “And he’s the quarterback of the football team. He’s a born leader.” Especially when he was leading the group to achieve one of _her_ goals.

Kurt pulled off his headband and ruffled his fingers through his hair. “I’m going to assume the reason you’re both so terribly, terribly wrong about this is that neither of you lives with him. He can’t plan his way out of the laundry room.”

“That’s not fair,” Rachel said.

“I once had to help him out of the complicated logic puzzle of whether white towels should go in on the washing machine’s whites cycle, the towels cycle, or if he should run them once on each.”

“At least he lives with an experienced wedding planner,” Blaine said before Rachel could draw breath to defend her boyfriend. “You can help.”

Rachel was glad she had one arm over her face as she worked at the back of her head; it made it easy to stifle her laugh at the horrified expression on Kurt’s face.

“I planned a _wedding_. Gorgeous dresses and suits, flower arrangements, table settings, seating arrangements, passed hot hors d’oeuvres. What on earth do I know about being a best man?”

“Well, I - “ Blaine frowned a little. “You were your dad’s best man.”

“My _dad’s_. Do you think I threw him a bachelor party? The kind with strippers?”

Rachel frowned, too; she hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t think it would be appropriate for Finn to throw any sort of party with strippers,” she said.

“Because he’s underage?” Blaine asked.

“Because he’s my boyfriend.”

“And Mr. Schue is engaged. I don’t think having a significant other stops most guys from wanting to watch strippers,” Kurt said.

“I don’t want to watch strippers,” Blaine told him.

Kurt reached out and patted his shoulder. “You’re gay, Blaine. Why would you want to watch Bambi strut her surgically augmented stuff?”

“I don’t really want to watch male strippers, either,” Blaine said softly, not looking away from Kurt’s face.

“Oh.” A flush crept into Kurt’s cheeks. “Well, I - “

“Maybe New Directions could perform at the bachelor party!” she exclaimed as she had a flash of inspiration. It was utterly perfect; it would get rid of the temptation of strippers, plus it would be another opportunity for the group to rehearse and perform to competition standards in front of a proper audience. She should talk to Finn about booking a theater space for the evening.

“Who needs strippers when you have Santana?” Kurt muttered. He cleared his throat and turned away from Blaine, slipping most of his products back into his bag and warming a dollop from the last jar in his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair, watching himself closely in the mirror. Blaine, who was still at his own sink working on getting the back of his hair to lie straight, watched him, too.

Rachel set down her flat iron and turned it off. “I think it would be perfect. We’re like his family, after all. That’s what he said. I’m sure he’d like to celebrate with us.”

“As long as we don’t have to sing Journey all night,” Kurt said.

“I think a selection of ballads and perhaps a few Broadway classics would set the mood perfectly. Obviously Barbra will be heavily featured.”

“This isn’t going to be like any bachelor party I’ve ever heard of,” Blaine said, struggling with the hair curling at the nape of his neck.

“No, it will be better,” she said. “Mr. Schuester didn’t just get one best man; he got all of us!”

Tina and Mercedes walked through, giggling about something on Tina’s phone, and they waved to Rachel and the boys. Kurt flickered his fingers back.

“I still think I need more than the size of a dime,” Blaine muttered, turning his head to look at his profile in the mirror as best he could.

“Here, let me.” Kurt took the comb from Blaine’s grasp and stepped around behind him, smoothing down the back of his hair with a gentle concentration. Blaine’s mouth quirked up into a small smile, and Kurt’s eyes crinkled fondly when they met his in the mirror.

Rachel looked away before she could even think about it; she felt a little like she was intruding on them, which was ridiculous because not only were they two of her best friends but they were in _her_ gym locker room. If they wanted privacy, they could go... well, not to the boys’ dressing room, obviously, and probably not anywhere else in the school, but that wasn’t really her problem. They were in the girls’ room; they shouldn’t be doing anything they didn’t want her to see.

And, really, why wouldn’t they want her to see them being affectionate with each other? She had two gay dads; she had grown up around men hugging and kissing. Kurt and Blaine were positively monks in comparison. At least they were in public; Blaine had shared some small but important bits of information about their private intimacy when he was her Tony. She considered being offended that they were so reserved in her presence. _She_ of all people would be supportive of and unfazed by their displays of affection.

“Much better,” Kurt said, sliding his fingers along the path the comb had taken before stepping back.

“Thank you.” Blaine’s hand lingered on Kurt’s when he took the comb, and they exchanged another soft smile before Kurt straightened his shoulders and looked away.

“You’re welcome.”

“I don’t know why you don’t have the same problems,” Blaine said, leaning in beside Kurt to watch him fuss with his hair in the mirror. “Your hair always looks perfect.” Rachel silently agreed with him as she adjusted her own bangs.

“Mine isn’t rebelling against the product.”

Blaine elbowed Kurt, and Kurt let out a little laugh Rachel wasn’t sure she’d ever heard before. It was light and happy, almost a giggle. She blinked over at him, confused but kind of delighted by it.

“I could put _more_ in,” Blaine teased. “Maybe that would fix the problem.”

“Don’t you dare.” Kurt pointed at him with one long finger. “I _will_ organize a hair-intervention, Blaine Anderson. I’ll do it out of love, and it will _not_ be pretty. Much like your hair when you abuse product.”

Rachel smoothed down her own hair, only a little insecure at what Kurt thought of her own grooming abilities. Surely he would have mentioned something if he were critical; it’s not like he held back his opinions. Slightly fortified by that thought, she pulled her makeup kit out of her bag to refresh her lip gloss and mascara.

“I think we should attend to Noah’s mohawk first,” she said. “Preferably before our next competition.”

“If you hold him down, I’ll get the clippers,” Kurt replied without hesitation.

Blaine laughed and put on his cardigan, quickly slipping the buttons through their loops. He smoothed down the collar, then stuck his hands into his pockets and drew his shoulders in tighter. “You know, next time we perform in a pool, we should find some really stylish wet suits.”

“I know. I feel like I may never be warm again.” Kurt tucked the last of his products back into his bag and zipped it up. “I believe I now know the definition of bone-deep cold. My marrow is still shivering.”

“Do you want my sweater?” Blaine asked, his fingers going back to his buttons.

Kurt smiled at him again, his eyes bright. “No, thank you. You’re cold, too.” He took his slim jacket from the nearby sink and slid into it. He tugged at the hem and twisted in front of the mirror as he studied his reflection. “Besides, we all must suffer for fashion. I wouldn’t want to ruin the silhouette of this coat with more layers.”

“I thought you liked layers,” Blaine said with a warmth in his voice Rachel didn’t understand.

“I thought you didn’t,” Kurt replied with an answering warmth. She narrowed her eyes until she realized it would make her mascara clump; it was hardly fair that they had jokes between them that they didn’t share with her. She was their friend, too.

Blaine pressed a hand to his own chest. “When did I say I didn’t like them?”

Rachel dropped her mascara back into her kit with a clatter, and it seemed to break the moment between them. She only felt a little bad about it.

“Anyway,” Kurt said, “your sweater doesn’t go with my color story.”

“It’s a very nice color story,” Blaine said, running his hands up and down Kurt’s arms as Rachel dabbed gloss on her lips. “But your skin doesn’t actually need to match the blue of your shirt.”

“No, I’m saving the lightly tinted powder idea for a very special occasion. Like Nationals. Or maybe Mr. Schue’s wedding party. It would give an extra touch of ethereal glow to the bridesmaids. Hmm.” Kurt tapped his fingers to his mouth. “I wonder if Miss Pillsbury would be interested my ideas for an enchanted forest themed wedding. She has the right look for it.”

Rachel was glad for the excuse of putting her things away to stop watching them. She was blissfully happy with Finn. He was everything she could hope for in a boyfriend: handsome, kind, talented but not more than she was, unfailingly supportive. And yet there was something about Kurt and Blaine that made her feel a little small inside, like she was a girl playing dress-up instead of the woman she was becoming.

It was in the way they didn’t seem to feel the need to express their feelings publicly all that much, like they’d been dating far longer than she and Finn had been circling around each other instead of the opposite. It wasn’t that they weren’t affectionate, and she knew a lot of their hesitation could be because of where they were instead of what they might have wanted to do, but there was a steadiness to them that she just couldn’t stop noticing. They didn’t need to show off for each other or anyone else to prove anything, because they already _knew_.

It was different from what she had with Finn. It was different from what Tina had with Mike. It reminded her of her dads, and not just because they were gay. It was because they were _together_ , and there was no question for them of it. Like they were already the real thing, and she was just pretending the same way she’d pretended she and Finn were living together the magical night he’d made her a special dinner and held her close under the blankets by the fire.

She shook her head. That couldn’t be right. This was high school. They were all young. None of them was settled yet, as much as they desperately wanted to be.

And yet. And yet, when she looked to the future, there were only a few constants for her: New York, Broadway, and Kurt as her best friend. Kurt, who would be dating Blaine. She wanted Finn there, but in her heart she didn’t know if he would be; he had so many things pulling at him, so many ideas that weren’t about the city of her dreams.

She couldn’t imagine Blaine not joining Kurt and her there, though. She just couldn’t imagine it.

A part of her wanted to scream that it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that they were so sure of each other when she had to worry about the future if Finn didn’t want to follow her to New York. It wasn’t fair that Kurt had a partner who could understand and sympathize with his drive to perform when Finn loved her but didn’t quite get it. Finn could and did support her, but Blaine _felt_ it.

Kurt readjusted the fall of Blaine’s collar, and his fingers lingered there for a second longer than Rachel thought was necessary before he let them drop. He didn’t draw his hand down Blaine’s chest, and he didn’t lean in for a kiss, but he smiled in a way that made her think he wanted to.

She sighed as her frustration shifted away from her own heart. It also wasn’t fair that they had to hide _anything_ they wanted to show in public. Love of all sorts was beautiful, after all. It should be expressed and shared. Her own childhood was an example of just how wonderful it could be.

She zipped up her bag and hooked it over her shoulder. That problem was easy enough to solve. Once they were all in New York, Kurt and Blaine could be more open, even legally tied in a way her dads weren’t able to be in Ohio, and she wouldn’t feel so excluded. It was ridiculous that she was excluded now, of course, but maybe they weren’t mature enough to understand her as well as she thought. It was okay. She’d show them just how supportive she was.

“It’s hard to stay mad at you two,” she announced.

They drew apart, turning to stare at her.

“You were mad at us?” Blaine asked in confusion. “Why?”

“I’m over it,” she said, waving it away.

“Okay,” Kurt said slowly.

She reached up on her tiptoes to hug him, and he returned the gesture after a second’s hesitation before she went to hug Blaine. “I’ve decided to be happy instead. I am mature. I am supportive. I take joy in other people’s joy, especially when it doesn’t get in the way of my own.”

Blaine’s eyebrows drew together, and he said, “That’s great?”

“Of course it is. I’m a wonderful friend.”

“I’m not sure ‘wonderful’ is the word I’d use to describe you right now,” Kurt commented. “‘Crazy’ springs to mind.”

“You’ll see,” she told him.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Laugh all you want. You’ll see. But I’m warning you,” Rachel said, pushing open the door to the hallway. She paused looking back over her shoulder at them for a moment to build the tension. “If you don’t ask me to be the soloist at your wedding I will never speak to either of you again.”

“What? Our - ?” Blaine started, but she didn’t hear the rest of what he said because she swept dramatically through the door and let it close behind her.

Never let it be said that Rachel Berry didn’t know how to make an exit, she thought to herself with a pleased smile.


End file.
